Thr Christmas Surprise
by Saturdaychick
Summary: An Erik and Christine holiday stand alone. Merry Christmas!


**The Christmas Surprise**

Erik, wrapped in his cloak with the collar turned up and a scarf draped over and around and his hat pulled low to shade his mask, stepped out into the chill winter sunlight. The Opera House was never known for its warmth, but it took something special to move him from the comfort of his Lair. He had to buy Christmas presents.

He cursed the fact of having friends that always showered him with gifts at this time of year and he knew enough that eventually he was going to have to reciprocate. Antoinette Giry, Meg and Nadir, though well intentioned, were often annoying in their way of dropping by on occasion, usually when he was deep in thought or composing or, well, agonizing over his talented student and his inappropriate feelings for her.

It was Christine that finally drove him outdoors on this cold and bleak day. She had waited in her dressing room for him, and when he stepped through the mirror into this space for her lesson, she was all aglow, and made him unable to speak for a moment, and as he stood there, she thrust a beautifully wrapped parcel at him "Merry Christmas, Erik!" she cried , delightedly. You can open it now. You don't have to wait."

He stared at her, still speechless, because this was the first time the young soprano had ever given him something on her own and not in the company of Meg and Antoinette, and it would be something like a box of chocolates or a bottle of wine.

He leaned against her bureau and unwrapped the ribbon and tinsel, and there, nestled in green tissue paper, was a woolen scarf. It was black and knitted into it at one end was a red rose with green leaves, and a real black ribbon knit into it. His signature present to her after every performance. A red rose tied with a black ribbon. "I knit it myself especially for you, Erik. I wanted to make it as symbolic of my feelings for you, my Angel."

He loved it more than anything he had ever owned in his life. He wanted to crush it to his chest and shower it with kisses, no, wait, he wanted to do that to Christine, but dare he? He didn't want to misinterpret her gift as anything more than a present from a student to her tutor. So he bent forward, took her hand and placed a kiss upon it. "Thank you, my dear. I shall wear it always… and think of you."

It was this scarf that he wore now. And it was the ache in his heart, even more than the indebtedness to his friends that sent him out to the shops in search of gifts.

How would he ever get over his obsession with Christine? He pondered as he walked through the snow covered streets as sure as a cat while those about him clung to one another for support on the icy patches. What could he get her that was something as much from his heart as the scarf had been from hers, "No…stop misreading everything. She was a grateful student. Nothing more." He was muttering, and realized people he passed cast him puzzled, sideways glances. "Like at a mad person. .. is that what I have become? Yes, mad, mad for those beautiful brown eyes, for the chestnut hair, mad for those lips, so perfect, and when she sings, it is with the voice of the angels! Back to those lips… NO!" He shouted this last word, and a shop keeper sweeping the snow from the front of his shop actually turned and gave him a look of concern. Erik hurried past.

He paused and went into a haberdasher where he chose an elegant new lambskin astrakhan hat for Nadir. He knew his vain friend would love it. He had them wrap it and he went next to a perfumers where he chose a flowery scent in a beautiful glass bottle for Meg. Next to a clothing boutique and studied the wraps and shawls and chose a deep wine colored cashmere shawl for Antoinette. He had exquisite taste, so he knew his friends would be pleased with his choices.

But now, the most important gift of all. What to get Christine? Nothing too personal, he thought, though some lavender lingerie caught his eye. He had paid for Christine's clothing through a stipend he gave Antoinette, who promised never to tell her. He thought back to the time when she was a small girl, orphaned and alone whom, for some unknown reason, had touched his frozen heart with her little songs in the chapel, sung to the spirit of her beloved father, and for the Angel of Music, whom he had promised to send to her from Heaven. So, crazily, he became her Angel of Music and secret guardian. He couldn't help his impulsive act then nor could he contain his feelings for the beautiful young woman she had become. It was wrong, though. Surely she could never care for him in the same way?

He absentmindedly stroked the scarf. How he loved it. His most cherished belonging, dearer to him than the jewels he had taken from the Shah of Mazanderan's court when he escaped. Dearer than his favorite books or his fountain pen, of which he was very fond.

He walked slowly down the street, staring in window after window. What to get? What to get? He paused then at the jewelers and went in. He studied an assortment of bracelets and pendants and rings, ah, rings, how he would love to place a little circle of gold on the ring finger of her left hand. "No, not a ring. Get that out of your head" he scolded himself.

Then he saw it. An angel brooch. In her hands was clasped a violin. Her wings were beautifully done enamel and encrusted with tiny diamonds so they sparkled. The violin was actually crafted of wood and painted gold. It was her hair that sold him on it. Instead of the usual golden curls one saw on angels in paintings, this tiny angel had enameled chestnut hair. And her lips were pink. The same pink as the lips that haunted Erik's dreams. Perhaps he should get it for himself, he almost thought, but that, too was just more of his insanity. He paid for it and had it wrapped in festive silver paper with red ribbon. It was expensive, but really, what was money? He had a lot of it saved from his work and travels and his extortion, um, salary at the Opera House.

Feeling somewhat lighter, he headed back home. Once back in his Lair, he found himself at his organ and words and music just came to him, as they did:

Angel of Music,  
Angel of song,  
sing for me  
only  
all night long  
Angel of goodness  
Angel of light  
stay with me  
always  
Never take  
flight  
Angel of darkness  
Angel of dawn  
stay by my  
side  
it's where  
you belong  
Angel of feathers  
Angel of doves  
my heart is  
yours  
I need  
your love

Was this song any good? Perhaps not, but it came from the depths of his craziness and mad love for Christine and he had to go and sing it to her right now, he couldn't wait any longer, even though she might turn from these emotions and flee he had to risk it and clutching the wrapped brooch he followed the tunnels to her dressing room. He could see she was sitting on her bed, studying a libretto while she brushed her hair.

Without waiting, he slid the mirror door open and stood before her.

"Angel?" she queried.  
He wished he had thought to bring his violin, at least, but he stood there and sang to her, his voice warm and sensual and hypnotic. She rose from the bed. Had he made a fool of himself. He was afraid to look at her. But then, there she was, throwing her arms around him, "Erik!" she cried. "I've been in love with you for so long! I was afraid you saw me only as your silly young student who needed to pay attention more or you would scold me. "

He found himself embracing her back, then froze as she reached up and slipped off the half mask, but she was not put off by what she revealed, instead she raised up on her toes and kissed him all over on both sides of his face and then his lips. He was lost! Lost to this moment, to those lips, those arms! "Christine, is this real, or is it just a delusion?"

"If you want to know the truth, Erik, it's my Christmas wish. I wished that you would see me as a woman that you could care for. Wishes come true!"

"Apparently, " he smiled.


End file.
